The Short Life of Maggie
by pinktwirlz
Summary: The rules of my life were simple: Don't make a mess, don't stay in one place, don't leave a pattern. And don't tangle with the Winchesters.


Everyone knew the Winchesters.

Every ghoul and ghost in the alleyways, every vampire stalking the streets has heard stories of the Winchesters.

At first, it was just John. It only took a few years of hunting for John Winchester to be given a decent berth. But then John was dead and we all thought we were safe. All we had left were the normal hunters, and they could be handled.

But it was far from over. Because when John and his mission were taken out of the picture, a new legend had already started to rise up.

At first, we didn't take the Winchester brothers seriously. Sam was a schoolboy and Dean was a yes-man. Only the foolish were ever harmed by them.

We had never been so wrong.

Now, I've talked to my fair share of hunters, and every hunter worth his salt knows enough to be wary of the Winchesters. And it's understandable. The two of them rose up in the ranks pretty quickly (for hunters). And status amongst hunters isn't easy to come by. But those idiots have no idea.

If they think the Winchesters rose quickly within the hunter community, they obviously have no idea what it was like amongst the monsters.

For the first time in a long time, we were afraid. To them, it was a job status. To us, it was a threat to our lives.

My name is Maggie. I chose that name all on my own. And I grew up hearing stories about the Winchesters. My mother would bring me dinner from some freshly killed meatbag, and tell me not to make a mess. And I would ask her why. Why did it matter that we stay neat and clean if we had gone through all the trouble in killing some innocent human to get to it? And her response would always be, "Because if you make a mess, the Winchesters might find you."

It was only later that I learned the whole mess thing was just symbolic. Hell knows I've spilled blood on countless of my clothes, and it's not too hard to wash off. But when Mother taught me how to hunt out humans for myself, that was the warning she gave me.

"Stay smart, Maggie." She said. "Never make a mess. Never leave a trail."

Never make messes. Never leave a trail. Always keep moving. Never kill twice in one place. Never leave a pattern.

And that was how I learned to stay alive. Never kill all in one place, or Dean Winchester will notice. Never leave a pattern, or Sam Winchester will identify you. This is why I move around all my life, stealing from morgues when I can, and killing the unattached when I can't. Never just take the brain or pituitary gland of a person, take other parts too so they won't know what I need.

All went well while I was on my own. Mother and I had gone our separate ways, and I was on the road. It wasn't until I was caught sneaking into a mortuary that things started to go bad for me.

The person that found me was another kitsune.

Her name was Britt, and she was everything I had ever wanted in another person. We had the same goal, the same needs, and it seemed clear that we should team up. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was on my own for a reason, but I didn't care. Because when I saw her, I saw a life that I wasn't spending alone.

Britt was exciting, daring, and nothing at all like I was taught to be. I was quiet, reserved, cautious, but life with her was...better. It felt worth living. Hell, it _was_ living, and all I knew was just surviving.

We lived like that for a year and a half. Until Britt got dangerously sick.

We were in a small city somewhere in the heart of Oregon. It couldn't possibly have been worse timing. This place had almost no public crime or murder, and the monster population was practically nonexistent. But Britt was too weak for us to go any farther, so we holed up there until she could recover.

But she didn't. And I tried to be smart, I tried to keep from drawing attention. But all I knew was that Britt was dying and Britt needed help and Britt needed food and she needed it fast.

I needed a pituitary gland that was fresh, that was healthy. Food from the morgues just wasn't cutting it. So I camped out in an alley and snatched a guy while he was out taking a smoke.

Just one missing person. Not a big deal. And Britt showed definite improvement.

But I was on edge. I knew we needed to leave the town. All my instincts were screaming at me to go. So I got sloppy. I dumped the rest of the body in a river. It's a testament to my rotten luck that it washed ashore.

I didn't even think that was possible.

But happen it did, and it caught the attention of the local media. Nothing big enough to bring a hunter in, but I knew I would have to be more careful.

I urged, I pleaded with Britt to just let us leave, find somewhere more populated. But she didn't want to go. She was still sick after all. I refused to kill again until we found somewhere safer, but she was desperate. She went behind my back and snagged a teenage girl while I was asleep. Even worse, she only took the brain, and left the body behind in a dump somewhere.

The case of the "zombie killer" running around the small Oregon city certainly did draw the attention of the hunters.

I'm not weak. A hunter I can deal with, but it wasn't just a hunter that came running.

It was the Winchesters.

My heart nearly stopped when I saw a Chevy Impala pull into our motel. All my instincts shrieked at me to run. I remember the ringing in my ears, all the stories my mother had told me were building up. _Don't make a mess. Don't leave a pattern. Don't stay in one place. Don't go near Sam, or Dean will be on your trail. Don't fuck with Dean, or you'll get his brother's knife in your throat._

We needed to leave, and we needed to leave _now._ All Britt needed was one more fresh gland, and then we could be gone. We would be out of the state within the day, and the Winchesters would be far behind us. So I killed the motel desk employee in my desperation. That was the last mistake I ever made.

I don't know how they tracked us down to the exact room number, and I certainly never will. But Britt was in bed when we heard the banging on the door. We ran for the knives and holed up in the back room. Britt took the space by the door, and I waged war on a window, trying to open it wide enough to escape through.

It all happened quickly from then on. They bursted through the door and into our room. Britt made an attempt to fight them off, but was struck down by Sam Winchester without so much as a blink.

I abandoned my window and charged for him. My ears were ringing and my heart was pounding. All I knew was that Britt was dead, she wasn't coming back, and Sam Winchester had killed her. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could get a blow in. Somewhere in the neck or the chest. All I needed was one blow.

I didn't even make it halfway across the room. The last thing I ever saw was Dean Winchester turning the corner and plunging his knife into my chest.

And their icy eyes boring into me as I fell.

* * *

Inspired by mishasscollins d0t tumblr d0t com /post/38355745853/nyxocity-yourdarlinglittlesammy- cynassa


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